Besitos y Abrazos
by The Official Canadian Teabag
Summary: The translation of the title is basically 'hugs and kisses'. A collection of oneshots highlighting our two favourite Latin dorks' love life ranging from fluffy to angst.
1. 1

**#1: Strip Battleship**

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><p>"G-1, G-2, G-3."<p>

"Nope! Nothing~"

"Fuck you. You go."

"Hmm, let's see...C-6, D-6, E-6?"

"What the fuck! How the hell are you so good at this?!"

"I dunno~"

"You bastard, you must be cheating! Perverted prick!"

"Take it off, Loviiii~"

A loud groan, but Lovino begrudgingly slipped off his trousers, his face flushed from embarrassment. To make things even fucking worse, his asshole boyfriend whistled at him, which only made him blush harder.

"Shut up, moron!" The pair of pants were flung right into the dumbass' giggling face, and Antonio hugged the fabric to his chest.

"Mmm...smells just like Lovi," He purred. "I wonder what your underwear smells like...it certainly looks cute! Did you customize it in red and yellow just for me, mi amor~?"

"Like hell I would do that, you creepy son of a bitch! Is it just so fucking wrong and weird for me to like those two colours?"

"Ah, well, I guess not. Do pardon me~ Your turn, Lovi!"

The Italian grumbled, and shifted so he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking hard at his board and trying to make a good battle strategy. "Okay, uh...B-4, C-4, D-4?"

A hum of pleasure came from his boyfriend. "Oh, wow, Lovi, look at that! You hit another one of my ships!"

"Aha!" Lovino shouted a bit too loudly for comfort, but he really was pleased he finally hit the bastard a second time. "Strip for me, asshole!"

Antonio shrugged like it was no big deal and took off his sweater, placing it right next to his socks. "Not sure how excited anyone can be when they take off their sweater." Of course he had to be wearing a damn shirt underneath it.

"...Cheater," the Italian accused bitterly, a scowl on his blushing face. Antonio just laughed.

"No, this is how everyone plays the game. You gotta bundle up to save yourself! Why didn't you do that, Lovi?"

"Uh, maybe 'cause it's fucking boiling in here and your air conditioner sucks ass?"

"Oh, well, that's too bad for you. My turn! H-9, H-10, H-11."

A hot, dark flush from the tips of Lovino's ears to the end of his chin appeared on his face. "...I hate you, you cheating bastard."

"I love you, my wonderful, sexy tomato. Now...take it off~"

"_Ugghhhhh_."


	2. 2

**#2: Video Games**

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><p>"Antonio, stop mashing the buttons."<p>

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not!"

"You are. Just look at the damn moves list."

"I did!"

"So what the hell do you think you're doing now?"

"I'm using the moves!"

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Antonio."

"What?"

"...Stop mashing the buttons!"

"Sorry, okay? Jeez! Button-mashing is much better than looking at those stupid...combos. What is this, X, X, circle and left on the D-pad? I don't even get it."

"I'm never letting you play Mortal Kombat with me ever again."

"You're so mean to me. I'm a newbie. You can't expect me to be super good at this game."

"Whatever."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"LOVI! Stop beating me! You don't even let me TRY to attack you!"

"Well, you snooze, you lose."

"Ugh! Stop it! Wait-wait-wait, Lovi, don't, wait-Lovi! Why'd you do that?"

"Why not?"

"You ripped his _head_ off! My favourite character! How could you do such a thing?!"

"It's just a game, Tonio. Don't be a sore loser."

"Hmph. Just because you like to play as...as...dumb, slutty, warrior women doesn't mean you get to beat me all the time. I don't appreciate that. At all. Rude."

Lovino sighed and paused the game, silencing the battle cries of the pixelated characters and turning towards his pouting boyfriend who had his controller set down and was crossing his arms tightly like the brat he was. Scooting closer to the other brunet, the Italian looped his arms around broad shoulders and hugged him half-heartedly. "Sorry, baby. I don't mean to be a sore winner, even though you're pretty terrible at this game."

"Hmph," Was what Antonio replied with, still refusing to make eye contact. "...'S not my fault you like these gory, violent games. I don't even _like_ killing."

Lovino sighed again. Ugh. He was always guilted into playing more decent, appropriate games with his boyfriend, but he didn't mind it as much as anyone would think he does. So he leaned in to quickly peck Antonio on the cheek and whisper, "Wanna play New Super Mario Bros on the Wii?"

Like a firecracker Antonio brightened up, turning to the Italian with a beaming smile. "Really? You want to?"

"Sure."

"Yaaay! I call being Luigi!"

"No, _I_ wanna be Luigi."

"_I_ wanna be Luigi!"

"Fine, I'll be Mario, then."

"No, _I_ wanna be Mario!"

"Fine! Then I'll be Luigi!"

"No, _I'm_ Luigi!"

"I'M Luigi!"

"No, I am!"

"..."

"..."

"...Okay, fine, you can be Luigi."

"No, I want to be Mario now."

"No, I'm Mario."

"Okay, I'll be Luigi."

"No, _I'm_ Luigi!"


	3. 3

**#3: Ass-entials**

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><p>"My butt hurts."<p>

"Good for you."

"Can you give me a massage, Lovi?"

"On your ass?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Aww. But it hurts."

Scoff. "Why, were you fucking around with other guys behind my back?"

"No! Of course not! I was just, um..."

"Just what?"

"Uh...I was, um...doing...butt exercises the other day."

Lovino furrowed his eyebrows and lowered his book, giving his embarrassed boyfriend a look. "...You were doing _what_?"

Antonio's cheeks flushed, and he giggled nervously, tapping his fingers against the chair he was sitting on. "Butt exercises?"

"Oh, my God - so your muscles are sore or what?"

"Yeah. They're sore."

"Why the hell were you doing _butt_ exercises, anyways? It doesn't really need to get any bigger than it already is."

To Lovino's surprise, the embarrassment in the Spaniard's features disappeared and got replaced with a scowl. "Because of that. It's too big. Francis said so. He says that there are different exercises to make it smaller."

The Italian almost laughed - what a fucking lie. "Why do you want it smaller? Besides you thinking it's too big."

"Because, Lovi!" Antonio exclaimed. "It gets too much attention! People look at me and they're judging me because they look at my butt!"

Yeah, they judge, Lovino thought to himself. But not in a mean way. _Definitely_ not in a mean way. "Antonio, your ass is fine. Don't listen to Francis."

"But Lovi, he's right! My butt's so gross and squishy anyways. It's not even muscle, it's _fat_. So if I burn off the fat, I'll have a normal butt like everyone else."

Lovino let out a loud sigh and placed his book aside. "For fuck's sake - Tonio, get over here."

Antonio was pouting, but he begrudgingly crawled over the bed to sit in front of his boyfriend. The Italian reached over and grabbed his bastard boyfriend, hands sliding down over the firm, ample ass that every inch was marked as his territory. Then he pinched the flesh. _Hard_. "Does this hurt?"

"Ow!" Antonio yelped, and tried to twist away from the pain. "Obviously that hurt, Lovino!"

"So that means it's muscle. Not skin."

"Eh?"

Lovino sighed, and his fingers moved again - this time rubbing that ass through its confinements hard, stroking it and prodding the tense muscles deep within. "It's not going to burn away no matter how much you exercise. It's only going to get bigger. So stop working it out so much."

"...Oh. Okay." The Spaniard's body relaxed, and a soft, airy sigh escaped his lips. "Got it...mmm, Lovi, that feels so good..."

Lovino flushed, trying not to feel anything that wasn't supposed to be felt, even though he admittedly was in a very suggestive position right now, massaging the ass of his boyfriend who was now sighing and humming dreamily. Dammit. "Oh, shush, bastard. Just tell me where it hurts."

A hand came behind to guide Lovino's over somewhere else. A _certain, specific_ somewhere. "Right here, Lovi~ It hurts so bad~"

...

Oh.

_Oh_.


	4. 4

**#4: The Sound of Silence**

* * *

><p>It was a little known fact that Antonio knew how to play the piano. Not many people knew that he's been tapping on those smooth ivory and onyx keys ever since he was the crisp age of three years old. Now, twenty years later, he felt that his talent should be passed on to his beloved, so that the population of talented musicians would go up by one.<p>

Lovino enjoyed the percussion instrument, loved the grandeur of it and the beautiful sounds he could make on it. Although Antonio tried to steer him towards joyful sonatinas and romantic pieces, the Italian preferred darker, minor songs instead. "It's so much prettier when it's sad," He would explain often. "Like sweet sorrow, you know?"

Antonio knew.

They held practices every Thursday evening, just thirty-five minutes, one-on-one lessons from Antonio to Lovino. Long, slender fingers dutifully obeyed every order given from the Spaniard, whether the teacher wanted to hear a piece or even just a scale. While Lovino would play, Antonio would slip behind him, tuck hair over an ear, press his lips onto a warm throat, before whispering, "Nobody can play that like you do, mi amor." And Lovino would blush - Antonio knew because his throat would feel warmer - and mumble a thank-you before continuing on.

And so the music lived. It lived on and on, even way after Antonio passed on into the other life from prostate cancer. It was all Lovino had, now. The music and phantom touches of his lover's lips on his throat. But he was in a dark place. A dark place that trapped him, cornered him, and while his eyes always used to hold the ferocity of a lion's, his heart was weak, soul shattered. Awful images never ceased in his head, terrible motion-pictures rolling over and over, repeating consistently, and Lovino was frightened to close his eyes.

He became sleep-deprived. He shivered and sobbed alone in his cold bed, darkness and terror everywhere he looked. He couldn't get out of this dark place, this third world that his mind created for him to drift in. And one day...he decided to end it all.

They say his body was found hung by the piano. How ironic. How fitting. But nobody cared. They were almost glad he was gone.

Nobody cared. Nobody did. Only Antonio. He was the only one.

Oh...Antonio...such sweet sorrow, isn't it?

* * *

><p><em>Music expresses that which cannot be said, and on which it is impossible to be silent.<em>

- Victor Hugo


	5. 5

**#5: Maybe Google Translate Has Its Benefits**

* * *

><p>"Hey, bastard, I need your help on something."<p>

Antonio lifted his gaze from his book to turn his attention towards his friend. They were very close, but the Spanish student had the biggest crush imaginable on him. Of course, he wasn't planning on telling the other ever, because it might just ruin what they have already and leave him alone in this world. "Hm? How can I help you, Lovi?"

The Italian trudged over to the edge of the bed and sat down. He had a frown on his face, but you couldn't tell if he was confused or angry about something. "I need you to translate something for me."

"Into what language?"

"Japanese, moron. Spanish."

"Ahh, so you want to know the language of passion, hey?"

"Shut up. I just need help because there's this Spanish chick at the supermarket and I wanna score a date with her."

From behind the book, Antonio's fists tightened. Oh. Lovino liked this girl. Well, then. He couldn't have that, could he? No. He couldn't. At all. But still he smiled politely. "I see~ Well, what kind of line would you like to use on her?"

Lovino shrugged. "I dunno. Something romantic. One that'll make her blush."

"Hmm..." Antonio pretended to think about it, but he had a sentence locked in his head already. "Okay! You should say, 'yo tengo un pene chiquito' to her~"

"Wait, repeat that again?" Lovino whipped out a notepad from seemingly nowhere and rested the tip of a pen against the paper, poised, ready to write.

"Yo."

"Yo."

"Tengo."

"Tengo."

"Un."

"Un."

"Pene."

"Pene..."

"Chiquito~"

"Chiquito." The Italian scribbled words down before pocketing the notepad. "What does that mean? So I have an idea what I'm saying to her."

Antonio flashed his friend a toothy smile. "It basically translates to, 'you're more beautiful than the moon'."

Lovino looked skeptical, but nodded slowly. "Oh-kaaaay..." The word was drawled, and he stood up, heading towards the door. "Eh, okay. Thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome!" Antonio sang as he friend disappeared, and a few chuckles escaped his lips as he turned back to his book, smirking evilly. "You're _so_ welcome..."

* * *

><p>About two hours later, Lovino came storming back, a pout on his lips and cheeks flushed. "Your stupid pick-up line didn't work." The notepad was chucked at the Spaniard's head. "She just laughed at me and walked away. What the hell?"<p>

Antonio shrugged, smiling brightly, triumphant and very pleased with himself. "You must've said it wrong."

Oh, he really was the worst.


	6. 6

So before you begin this chapter, it seems that a translating error was pointed out from ficlet number 5. I don't really know how to resolve it, however, because I moreorless disagree with it, but I could VERY easily have been told the wrong thing. I come from a partially Italian family, with my father born and raised in Vicenza and my mother in San Sebastien, and so my dad has told me that penis in Italian was either 'cazzo' or 'coglioni'. Idk. Maybe he's just talking about the vulgar variants. But if that IS how you say it in Italian, let us just say that our lovely Lovi is from an alternate universe where he never learned formal Italian for the human body ;w; Also, I've been updating this quite frequently as you may have noticed, and I'm doing that so in the future, all my ficlet ideas will be no more and I can focus more on my multi-chap fics.

* * *

><p><strong>#6: Merenda (or, Pervert Lovino, a.k.a., Charlie's headcannon) part 1<strong>

* * *

><p>Lovino always found it exceedingly difficult watching Antonio eat. It was probably because his boyfriend was always so damn messy, being the fucking child in a grownass man's body. But it's not that it was mentally strenuous having Antonio eating a salad or something in front of him. It was difficult because, well...uh...it was kinda hot. Sometimes. Maybe.<p>

The Italian tapped his fingers against the countertop, watching Antonio eat a tomato from the corner of his eye. The stupid bastard was eating like a three-year-old again, and so gooey, yummy tomato juices trickled down his chin and past the corners of his mouth.

Fuck. Ugh.

Lovino flushed, biting his bottom lip hard as he couldn't look away. It was just so suggestive, so perverted, and he knew he shouldn't be fucking thinking about tomatoes like that, but he really, really couldn't help it. Just like Antonio couldn't help eating a damned tomato so sensually. It was annoying. It was sexy. He wanted to lick the tomato off his boyfriend's chin, but like always he was too shy.

Uuuuugh. The juices continued to drip, flowing past soft, pretty lips, giving Lovino the mental image if Antonio was instead on his knees with his mouth around -

Um, nothing. Just kidding. Haha. So funny. Oh, if only.

And so he couldn't do much but shove a pile of napkins towards Antonio and stomp away to relieve his sexual frustration, leaving his boyfriend alone in the kitchen, eyebrow raised in bemusement.

Maybe Lovino could bribe Antonio to start eating creampuffs more often.


	7. 7

**#7: Disney Movies**

* * *

><p>"I hate this fucking movie!" Lovino hollered into Antonio's sweater, his voice cracking with every shuddering sobbed escaping his chest. "I fucking <em>hate<em> it!"

"Lovi, shh, it's okay, cariño. It's just a movie."

"It's not JUST a movie, you asshole! I-It's-" Hiccup. "-m-more complicated than that...it's so _stupid_!"

"Oh, Lovi," Antonio sighed, a hand stroking his boyfriend's soft brown hair, the other hand tracing a quivering spine in an act of reassurance. "Are you sad that Aladdin set Genie free?"

No response. Just loud, heartfelt sobs coming from deep within the Italian. Of course Antonio knew it was coming; that one scene towards the end always left Lovi as a sad, wailing little tomato. "'I'll miss you'," Aladdin on-screen had said. Genie had replied with, "'Me too, Al. And no matter what happens, you'll always be a prince to me'." Then Lovino's bottom lip started quivering, his eyes filled with tears, and after a few had spilled down his cheeks, his throat tightened and loud, uncontrollable sobs came spewing from him.

"You know he had to," Antonio continued in a murmur, and Lovino burrowed his face further into the soft red sweater. "He couldn't be selfish. And Genie wanted to be free."

"B-But I didn't want him to leave," the little Italian blubbered, the tears soaking several spots on his boyfriend's sweater. His words were harder to understand because little choking hiccups were making his voice crack horribly. "I-I wanted him to stay..."

"He wants to see the world, Lovi. He's never seen it."

"H-He could have seen it _with_ Aladdin and that bitch!"

"No, Lovi, they have their own lives to live. And so does Genie."

As usual, that only make the waterfall gush more. It was always like this when they took a trip back to their Disney era. These movies were the only things on this planet from Antonio's research that can really break Lovino down. He wasn't sure what it was about these sweet little animated films that would make a tough, grown, badass like Lovi himself cry like he was five years old. They went to the cinema every time a new Disney movie came out, and with every single one - Tangled, The Princess and the Frog, Brave, hell, even Steamboat Willie - Lovi always ended up walking out with tears falling from his face. It was strange. It was bizarre. But it was so _cute_.

Antonio smiled, and Lovino must have a smile radar, for he bitterly spat through his tears, "What the fuck are you smiling about, you bastard? This isn't funny!"

"No, it's not. But you are just so cute, mi amor." The Spaniard squeezed Lovino closer, kissing his moist cheek and jaw. "So, so cute..."

"Shut up," Lovino hissed, but he was starting to calm down now, having relieved himself of all his tears and emotions.

It wasn't very long before the living room was silent, save for the occasional sniffle. Around ten minutes of silence later, Antonio whispered, "I've never had a boyfriend like you, Lovi."

Lovino shifted and groaned, mumbling, "Did you seriously just make an Aladdin reference? Are you kidding?"

Antonio laughed and snuggled Lovino some more. "I love you. You're my diamond in the rough~"

"And you're the annoying red parrot that's always on my shoulder."


	8. 8

**#8: Sicky Wicky**

* * *

><p>Antonio coughed a few times into the crook of his arm in Attempt Number Eighteen Trillion to clear his throat, before settling back on the pillows and drawing the sheets up to his chest. "Loviiii...my throat huuurts..."<p>

"I asked you if you wanted medicine and you said no," Lovino said flatly from the edge of the bed, Dr. Seuss book in hand. "Now you have to deal with it."

"B-But medicine is yucky. Can't I have something...something yummier that'll help me?"

"Medicine's supposed to be yucky, moron. If it wasn't yucky, it wouldn't make you feel better. Do you want me to get the Buckley's?"

"No!" Antonio cried, nearly retching at the thought of that horrible, disgusting sludge crap. He sniffled, coughed again, and swallowed hard, wincing as his throat burned and ached. "N-No...Lovi, p-please find somethiiiing..."

Lovino sighed loudly, placing his book down and getting up. "Fine, fine. I'll make you some chicken noodle soup."

"Tomato soup," Antonio protested weakly, and Lovino turned around to glare at him.

"_Chicken noodle soup_," He repeated firmly before exiting the room.

Shoulda known the bastard was going to catch something. Antonio had been visiting the frog who's been down with a cold for a few days now. And now he has to take care of his sick ass. Lovino sighed as he poured noodles into boiling water and added chicken flavouring and curry powder. Not that he really minded...but he was going to get sick, too. Then Antonio would have to take care of him. Should be good payback.

A few moments later, he padded back to their shared room, where Antonio had sat up and was readjusting his light blue toque (which Lovino secretly thought made his boyfriend look ten times cuter)."Here ya go, dumbass," He mumbled, placing the bowl on Antonio's lap carefully. "If you spill, you're buying me more sheets."

With a feeble nod, Antonio reached down for the spoon and tried lifting a spoonful to his lips shakily. But he was weak and exhausted and so not having enough energy to even lift his spoon, so he just gave his boyfriend the most pathetic look he could muster.

With a groan, Lovino shifted his chair closer and made a grab for the spoon. "For fuck's sake, Antonio..." He cupped his other hand around Antonio's chin to make sure he'd catch anything that spilled and began gently spoon-feeding his boyfriend. Like a fucking baby. But did he really mind?

Nah. Not really.

After Lovino dabbed the Spaniard's chin with a napkin and placed the empty bowl on the nighttable, Antonio was out like a light, curled up under the heavy blankets and sleeping like a log. Lovino couldn't help but leaning down to press a quick kiss against a flushed cheek before hurrying out of the room with a warm face.

Goddammit. Even when he was sick, Antonio was so fucking attractive. Secretly, Lovino thanked whatever god was listening to him for bringing such a perfect guy into his life.


	9. 9

**#9: Merenda part 2**

* * *

><p>A pink tongue slipped past soft-looking lips to trace up and down it, tasting it, licking it. It was so good, it was practically melting in his mouth. Liquids trickled down from the very top, and he licked it all up, catching every drop with his tongue. It was so good, he couldn't help nibbling on the sides a bit, wanting a bit more of the sweet taste down his throat. He <em>really<em> liked the taste of it.

Then he moved his lips up, dragging them up this yummy treat and licking the head, swirling his tongue around it and collecting more liquid from it. Oh...it was starting to flow now...he'll lick it up. But it was so much...so he closed his lips around the entirety of it and sucked. He sucked and licked and licked and sucked, until his mouth was full of yummy juices. He gulped it down, loving the sensation of it sliding down his throat. He was messy about it, too, as liquid slipped past his lips and down his chin. No bother, he simply pulled his mouth away to lick his lips. Then he glanced over to his boyfriend with sleepy emerald eyes.

Lovino was watching him. He always did. And Antonio knew it. Oh, he _knew_ it. His lovely boyfriend's face was flushed, his glittering hazel eyes glowing with lust, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in a nervous nibble. His hands were between his legs, thighs pressed tightly together, and Antonio knew.

With a devious little smirk, he popped the Popsicle back into his mouth and lifted his hand off the table, sending a little wave to his boyfriend. From the living room couch, Lovino's hazy eyes narrowed, cheeks flushing a darker shade, and one hand lifted to flip the Spaniard off.

Oh, he is the absolute worst.


End file.
